


Fractured

by horrendoushaddock



Category: Biker Mice From Mars
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 18:39:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10471482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrendoushaddock/pseuds/horrendoushaddock
Summary: Sometimes broken things are beautiful just the way they are.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic, but probably one of my best contributions to this fandom.

Charley has become accustomed to the way those otherworldly lummoxes behave, but that doesn't mean they can't surprise her every now and then by pulling off a stunt that's particularly perplexing. At first glance, this would seem almost normal – Vinnie sprawled on the garage floor with his tail wrapped snuggly around her tiny waist – but if she's being honest with herself, this is by far one of the strangest things the white Martian has ever done. And that's saying something, all things considered.

"What are you doing?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, trying not to shift every time his tail flexes against her, squeezing tighter now and then, rising or falling. He can't get his hands on her yet, so this will have to do, and she knows that's why she often finds herself in this predicament. She'll never tell him she's starting not to mind and her struggles and scowls are all for show.

He flings out his arms and uses his tail to lift her up and sit her on his waist, effectively causing her to straddle him. "Fix me, babe," he croons, and she cocks her head to the side.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm broken," he laughs, "so fix me."

"Vin, I don't have time for this," she says with a roll of her eyes, glancing sidelong at the bike she's supposed to be working on. His, to be exact.

"She can wait," he says with a grin, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Oh, she can, can she?" Charley smirks, thankful he hasn't taken to his bike the way Modo has.

"Oh, yeah, she's a very understanding little lady." He puts his hands on her hips, hooks his thumbs through her denim belt loops.

"Right," she chuckles, shaking her head as she presses her palms to his chest, finally making an attempt at getting off of him, a feat that is easier said than done, because his tail has her firmly anchored in place. "Come on, Vinnie. I really just want to finish up for the night and go to bed."

"Not till you work your magic on me, too, doll," he says with a wide, toothy grin.

She all but growls in aggravation, the strong urge to whack him in the head with the heaviest wrench she can find becoming increasingly harder to resist. But without a wrench of proper weight within arm's reach, she decides the only way to get out of this is to humor him.

"Fine. What's the problem?" she mutters, feeling her posture give out, utterly defeated.

"I'm thinkin' this stud could do with a full body repair," he says, and she can feel his fingers rubbing at her hips through the waist of her jeans.

She lets out a short, inward laugh. "I should have known. You're such a skeeze."

"Moi?" he questioned, feigning innocence for a second before he turned a wicked grin on her. "You know it, babe."

Shaking her head once more, she decides it's best to bite her tongue and not engage in some perverse verbal exchange, otherwise they would likely wind up in the garage all night, and then some.

"Let go so I can move better," she says quickly, reaching behind to tug at his tail. He does as asked, though she can't help but notice the way that wandering appendage of his snakes across her body as he pulls it away. It sends a shiver down her spine and she hopes he doesn't notice. If he does, he never lets on, just props himself up on his elbows and spreads his legs as she moves to kneel between them.

"Oh, this I like, Charley-girl!" he whoops and causes her to duck her head so he won't see the flash of pink suddenly across the bridge of her nose.

"Shut it," she hisses, then proceeds to play Martian Mechanic for him.

She runs her hands up his legs, caresses the insides of his thighs and almost but never quite gets too close. He whimpers in disappointment, and she takes pride in knowing she has this guy wrapped around her little finger, that even if he's the one to make the moves, she's the one calling the shots.

Her hands wander over his hips, up his sides and then back down. She feels his muscles flexing, rippling beneath her touch as her hands wander across his incredibly hard and toned abdomen. As she moves up higher, slower, she can feel the scars hidden by his fur; most of them are small, but there are some she's sure must have caused some life-threatening wounds at some point.

Trying not too think too hard on that, she glances up at him and is pleased to see him grinning like the loon he is, his eyes at half-mast. She lets out a rather unlady-like snort of disbelief before she continues her way up to his neck, cheeks and finally the faceplate. He closes his eyes as she traces it with a finger, then pulls her hand back once she thinks she's finished.

"There, happy now?" she chides, crossing her arms once again as she gets out from between his legs and kneels beside him again.

"Mm, not yet," he muses, reaching up to take one of her hands and place it back to his chest, over his heart. "You still got the internals to work on, babe."

This takes her by surprise and she jerks her hand away, cradling it to her chest. "That's not funny," she mutters, because the sheer severity of that statement was enough to chill her blood, and she thinks of the female whose face is everywhere inside his wallet – the only girl he has pictures of. She doesn't know what happened, and a part of her doesn't want to ever know, but she does know that the girl in the pictures is the cause of the void he's trying desperately to fill.

"Sorry," he's quick to apologize and sit up, rubbing at the back of his neck. "That was a bit much, huh?"

"Only a lot," she says, nearly snapping.

"Was just tryin' – "

"I know, I know," she sighs, then manages a small, half smile for him. "I told you, you need to work on your romance."

A smile tugs at his lips. "Any suggestions?"

She looks at him for a few seconds, gnawing on her bottom lip, choosing her words carefully. "Sometimes," she says, "things don't need to be fixed."

"What're you gettin' at, Charley-girl?"

"That some things just can't be repaired," she says, standing and brushing off her jeans. If she could, she would mend whatever damage he's sustained on the inside, but she's only human and she can't. Not because he's an alien, but because hearts just don't work that way, regardless of species.

She offers him a hand, and he pulls himself up, pulling her closer to him in the process. She puts her free hand to his chest, feels his heart thudding anxiously, eagerly, against his ribcage. She imagines it crimson and shattered and sharp-edged, beating in echoes. She smiles and leaves him words that leave him speechless.

"Being broken sometimes makes things more beautiful, you know."


End file.
